


These Little Moments

by DemonSquipster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s13e17 The Thing, Fluff without Plot, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mick Davies Lives, No Plot/Plotless, Romantic Fluff, but only for like a sentence or two, okay thanks bye, so you know it’s bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 09:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15482769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonSquipster/pseuds/DemonSquipster
Summary: Ketch wakes up before the sun rises every morning. Why? These are his little moments of peace. Where he can appreciate the things around him, especially his lover.





	These Little Moments

**Author's Note:**

> 1) It has been 479 days since The British Invasion aired (as of 07/29/18) and I am not okay  
> 2) I was going to write a different thing but I got distracted and instead wrote this  
> 3) I for one am excited about s14 because we get to see Jensen Ackles but no Dean Winchester I think it’s a win-win  
> 4) Mick being dead is unacceptable I want him back

Ketch wakes up before the sun rises every morning. Why? These are his little moments of peace. Where he can appreciate the things around him, especially his lover.

Sunlight poured into the room, shining on the bed. There was always something about morning light that urged Ketch to wake up early to see it. It was softer than the sunlight later in the day. It didn’t burn down as hard. It was fainter, and easier on the skin.

Especially on Mick, who slept closer to the window. The sunlight would always pour into the room, and illuminate Mick’s back.

The man often slept on his chest, when not clinging to Ketch. The comforter on the bed rarely covered Mick - in fact, most of the time, Mick will push it off. Ketch hardly slept with it over himself, so it laid untouched on the end of the bed at night. Ketch will cover Mick with it when he wakes up, however. Mick claims to get hot at night, but he wakes up shivering. Ketch just wants to do the most he can for Mick’s comfort.

Ketch liked when it rained too. It didn’t ever rain where they were currently staying, which was a bit disappointing to him. He enjoyed the quiet sound of rain hitting the window.

He enjoyed storms even more. The sound of thunder and lightning was a comforting sound to him. Mick wasn’t so much a fan of storms. He preferred nicer weather. It’s why they lived where they did; Ketch appreciated the nicer weather as well.

Even when the morning started with a cloudy grey, Ketch admired it. Light still found its way through the window, and brought the room a cozy, and comfortable haze.

Mick didn’t know that Ketch watched him like this - that Ketch watches the morning sun track shadows across his face; how Mick’s lips will twist into a faint smile every so often when he’s having a good dream.

Ketch could never tell him either. He could never find the correct words to explain these little moments. Ketch couldn’t tell Mick how he memorizes the rhythm of Mick’s breathing, or how he covers Mick with the comforter when he notices goosebumps rising on his skin - how Ketch marvels at the way the sun lights up his mess of dark hair that Ketch loved running his hands through and loved just messing with it in general.

This was one of Ketch’s many secrets. These quiet moments, when he watched the sunrise. He wonders how he could have ever gotten so lucky. When the darkness is overridden by the pale light, it seems nothing could go wrong.

When Ketch’s phone started going off, he really didn’t want to get up. He was rather comfortable with his arms wrapped loosely around Mick. Ketch finally rolled over to glance at his phone. Asmodeus was calling. He sighed and set it back down, not answering. He’d probably pay for that later, but he didn’t care right now. This was his time with Mick - not Asmodeus’s time.

Mick was starting to wake up as well when Ketch looked back over at him. “Who was it?” Mick asked, sleep heavily lacing his words. “Asmodeus. He probably wants me to show up so he can yell at me about his mistakes,” Ketch told Mick, smiling at his own joke.

Mick groaned as he curled back up against Ketch. “He can go fuck himself.” Ketch sighed, but didn’t make any move to try and sit back up. “Mick—“ The shorter male sat slightly up to meet Ketch’s gaze. “No. When you’re not with him, you’re hunting, a- and cleaning up Sam and Dean’s messes, and even stuck with them, and I’m tired of it. Stay, please.”

Ketch shook his head. “I can’t. Asmodeus would kill me if I ignored him.” Mick frowned, but sat back up to allow Ketch to stand. “I know you want me to stay. Asmodeus, however, doesn’t care. I need to go.”

Mick knew that; of course Ketch had to go - Asmodeus wouldn’t wait because Mick wanted Ketch around for a little longer. “When we got the Seals from Rowena, you said this hunting shit would stop.” He shot an accusatory glance at Ketch, who only glared back. “Asmodeus is paying me quite a lot to stand around and be yelled at, Michael.”

That caught Mick’s full attention. Ketch never used his actual name - clearly Mick had pieced him off. Ketch was already getting dressed, almost as if he was in a hurry to get there. “Why can’t you just get a job, like a normal person?” Ketch sat down on the bed to put his shoes on. “Our fake identities from our good friend in Germany haven’t come through yet. As of right now, technically we either don’t exist to the world, or we are dead to the world. I never existed, because of my parents, and you died when your parents did. We both died, because I shot you, and Mary Winchester killed me. You’re still dead to the Winchesters, which is what we want. Hmm?” Ketch nodded, and walked off to the bathroom.

“But why can’t we tell them?” Mick asked, watching Ketch. “The less who know, the better and safer it is for you.” He could understand where Ketch was coming from, but they already knew Ketch was alive. Who’s to say they don’t discover Mick too? “I promise I will be back soon. Remember how I told you about how Asmodeus has the archangel Gabriel? He most likely just wants to discuss that. Okay? I’ll go deal with him, and then I’ll come back to you. We can have the night to ourselves,” he explained, grinning.

Ketch’s implications weren’t exactly subtle, but they were appreciated. Mick nodded in response. Ketch leaned close to Mick and kissed him softly, lingering longer than he was going to originally. “I don’t want to go any more than you want me to. But it’s a Prince of Hell who’s calling me—“

Mick laughed against Ketch’s lips. “You’re stupid for getting yourself into that situation,” he told Ketch before kissing him again. “Yes I am.”

Ketch finally pulled away, and put on his suit jacket. “Duty calls.” With that, he left the room.

He felt uneasy about the situation. Something about the archangel being there, and the condition his vessel was in... Ketch was not a sympathetic person. But he understood empathy, and something about the situation reminded Ketch all too well of when he was brainwashed (and tortured, but Ketch hated admitting that he’d been through that) by the British Men of Letters.

He felt like he should have turned back. But he was already in his car.

He looked at the house again before leaving. If he’d known that it would be a while before he’d see Mick again, he wouldn’t have gone in the first place; Prince of Hell be damned.

Ketch drove off despite his unease.


End file.
